


To Face the Dawn

by shadowshrike



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Almyra (Fire Emblem), Culture Shock, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, Light Angst, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Post-War, Sappy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-12
Updated: 2019-10-12
Packaged: 2020-12-09 13:04:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20995271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowshrike/pseuds/shadowshrike
Summary: Dimitri wanders away from a major Almyran celebration, overwhelmed by how different everything is. Claude seeks him out to lift his spirits.





	To Face the Dawn

**Author's Note:**

> Something super sappy written in a single evening to counteract a rough day at work. This was originally intended to be part of the Emerald Moon universe, which is why some small references may seem familiar if you've read that series. It isn't crazy romantic or anything, but I hope ya'll enjoy this small offering to the dimiclaude tag.

Pasar, the jewel of Almyra, was ablaze tonight. Ritual torches guided its citizens through the dark streets like veins of light, drawing them to the beating heart of the city. There, pulsing drums and stomping feet kept time with a bonfire whose celestial-bound tendrils blotted out the stars to usher in the longer days of spring. 

Tonight, Almyra would not sleep. It would feast and laugh and dance until color bled into the winter sky. Only when a nightingale welcomed the dawn would they rest, satisfied that the warmth of their stories, bodies, and drink had staved off the evils of the longest dark once again.

Claude never put much stock in the superstitions of devils waiting to snatch up those who slept on the night of the solstice. Nevertheless, he stayed up every year, if only to watch the joy on the faces of his countrymen. His Almyran countrymen, to be specific. As far as those from Fodlan, the absence of one, in particular, was what sent him wandering the deepest of Pasar’s shadows, trying to discover a location where the city’s glow hadn’t consumed the night sky.

He found Dimitri standing alone atop a city wall. The king had retreated far from the fiery beacons, cowering from the illumination as if he was a demon of legend who would disintegrate when touched by the light. His colorless eye watched the turning of the stars. His lips formed names for them this land didn’t know, while his arms wrapped around his waist, the pale hands bared by his Almyran clothing more ethereal for their rarity of being on display.

Claude rubbed a thumb over the back of his own hand. Sometimes, it felt like Dimitri was more fit to wear a moon under his skin than Claude had ever been. 

“I thought I might get another hour out of you before you abandoned the party. Seems it’s really not your scene after all,” Claude called out. He sauntered up to Dimitri’s side with light steps, taking pride that the king trusted him enough to not glance over his shoulder at the intrusion on his solitude.

“I understand better now what Dedue must have felt in Faerghus, if only a fraction. How you felt, too, in Fodlan,” Dimitri murmured. He dropped his chin, a gesture that lost much of its dramatic flair when his long tresses were held back in a ponytail. “I find myself embarrassingly out of my depth everywhere I go in Almyra. It’s humiliating.”

Claude stopped the king’s hand from messing up his already disheveled hair by catching it before it could make another stressed pass against his scalp. He smiled, apologetic. “I know it can feel pretty isolating to be dropped in the middle of something new, but you aren’t alone. You have your advisors here. And me.”

“Yes, of course, you’re right,” Dimitri’s agreed, too quickly to be anything but him trying to crush some unwanted emotion. “I….” A sharp, shaky intake of breath. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey, hey, don’t apologize,” Claude said. He stroked his thumb against the inside of Dimitri’s palm, amazed at how rough his hands were even without gloves.

Dimitri’s breath hitched again, harder this time. Claude wished he had the earnest man’s knack for comforting others. Schemes and fake smiles were useless against true loneliness. He knew that better than anyone.

“It’s okay to cry if you need to. You want me to tell you a secret? Everybody does it. Even me, sometimes.” Claude’s eyes fell to where their hands intertwined and gave a soft squeeze. He hoped Dimitri could feel his earnestness though that touch because Claude didn’t know how to convey it through his words. “...all that really matters is what you choose to do when you’re done with those tears. But I’m pretty sure you know that, don’t you?”

Dimitri huffed gently. It was almost a chuckle.

“I never truly appreciated how strong you are, Claude,” he whispered. Unlike Claude, his voice gravitated towards sincerity like water sought out the familiar grooves of a passing river.

Claude laughed, lifting his eyes to the stars and away from Dimitri’s serious gaze. “You’re pretty strong yourself, Your Kingliness. I have the bruises to prove it.

Dimitri was not about to be deflected. “I meant I admire your resilience. I’ve realized first hand that being an outsider is a miserable, draining existence, and I haven’t tried anything beyond learning your customs. It’s as though the people here dislike me for merely existing. I don’t know how to feel about it - my life has always been the opposite of that.”

Empty adoration, Dimitri had called it once. As seriously as the king took his duty to his people, he hated how they loved him for his title rather than judging him on his personal merits or failings. It was one of many reasons his relationship with the half-Almyran prince had flourished after the war; Claude remained one of the few in the entire world who never saw the king before the man.

Some thought it was because Claude was too irreverent to take things like royalty seriously. The truth was, Claude simply admired Dimitri. For all his faults, the mantle of king suited him. He knew when to stand his ground and when to have faith in the opinions of his advisors and friends. Where Claude’s busy mind and distrustful nature kept him far from those who relied on him, Dimitri faced the impossible choices of a wartime king being asked to usher in an era of peace with confidence and empathy.

Maybe if Claude was a little more like Dimitri, he would have already claimed his father’s throne.

“Being an outsider can be tough, but having everyone depend on you isn’t that much better,” Claude muttered.

Dimitri hummed, “I suppose. Is that why you’ve been stalling? You don’t want people depending on you?”

“Maybe,” Claude admitted. Dimitri dropped his hand, draping it over Claude’s shoulders instead. The archer leaned into Dimitri’s side, seeking his warmth to replace the bonfires he’d left behind. “I’m not like you. I can dream up perfect schemes and manipulations all day, but leading people?” Claude scoffed, remembering his time in the Alliance. “That’s never been easy for me, no matter how many times I do it.”

“It  _ shouldn’t _ be easy,” Dimitri protested. “Trying to secure the prosperity of a people while history judges your decisions is a responsibility that cannot be taken lightly. However, if there is one piece of advice I might impart to you from one ruler to another, it is that the burden is lighter when you have allies to rely on.” He cleared his throat like he was an awkward, teenage boy rather than a battle-tested king. “I...realize it may be difficult to accept the King of Faerghus as an ally. Still, I hope you will consider it.”

After all these years, he still made it too easy to tease.

“Hm...the King of Faerghus  _ does _ sound pretty intimidating,” Claude drawled, leaning harder against Dimitri. Catching his fingertips under the king’s chin, he coaxed one star-bright eye to meet his own green ones that sparkled gold as they caught the city’s distant flames. “It’s a good thing I like ‘Dimitri’ just fine.”

“Yes...a very good thing,” Dimitri murmured back. 

His lips brushed the edge of Claude’s smirk.

“Then…” Claude purred, sliding his fingers fondly against the pale, near-invisible stubble along the king’s jaw. “...are you ready to go back and celebrate?”

Dimitri pulled away sharply. His expression dropped from sweet to stern in a single breath. “I should have realized that would be your game. I don’t wish to slight your hospitality, but I can’t say I’m looking forward to heading back to the center of town tonight.”

“I’m hurt that you have so little faith in me. I don’t plan to take you there.” Claude winked, twisting out of Dimitri’s remaining embrace to tug at his hand. Although the king could easily have stayed immovable, he let himself be dragged along, stumbling back towards the light. 

“Then where…?”

“There are plenty of other ways to stay warm and awake all night. I promise to show you all of them if you’ll agree to come with me. I’m sure your advisors will be fine on their own for the evening.”

Dimitri didn’t blush, or at least Claude couldn’t see any color under the orange cast of the nearby flames, but his adam’s apple bobbed obviously above his open-necked shirt. “...I see. We have a similar practice in Faerghus when the nights are thrice as cold as this. I look forward to seeing how your Almyran traditions differ.”

“Oh, don’t worry, Your Kingliness. I’ll show you  _ everything _ .”


End file.
